From the Files
by misanthrope1
Summary: Sidney is called to the 4077th to help.  Warning!  Will be turning to slash later!


FROM THE FILES OF SIDNEY FREEDMAN

Of all the people I expected, BJ Hunnicutt was the last one. Of all the 4077th personnel, he's the one I find the most difficult to pin down. He's good natured, serene, sometimes sanctimonious but fiercely devoted to his patients and friends. He holds a lot inside, allows Hawkeye to be the wild one. Yet here he is, stepping inside the tent with the utmost reluctance. "Hey, BJ."

"Hi, Sidney."

I observe him carefully. He stares at the walls, the floor, his hands, anywhere but me. He sits slowly and finally looks at me. "I suppose Potter told you why you're here."

I sip my coffee. "He said someone could use my help. He didn't say who."

He gazes at me suspiciously, an emotion I never associate with him, then rubs his hands. I note his fingers are bare and I sit back. "So what's going on, BJ?"

"My wife's divorcing me."

I'm glad I had swallowed my coffee, otherwise I surely would have spit it out. BJ adores his Peg, holds her and his daughter as amulets, talismans against the dark and horrors of war. I know why Potter called me now. BJ without his family is a man unknown and adrift. BJ smiles sardonically, another worrisome change. BJ may get angry but he isn't cruel or bitter. "It's OK, Sidney," he states. "I understand the shock. The devoted family man can't even hold onto his wife for more than eight months."

"I wasn't thinking that. I was thinking how difficult this must be."

"Sorry." His tone softens. "Yeah, it's hard." A small smile curves his lips. "Thank God for Hawkeye."

"Hawkeye?"

"He's been a godsend. He knew something was wrong, bugged me until I caved. He's kept Frank away, helped me explain to Potter, and listened to me rant." The smile grows rueful. "Someday he's going demand repayment and then I'm toast."

"He's your friend. Wouldn't you have done the same?"

"Sure." BJ stares at his hands again. We're silent until he finally sighs. "Look, I don't know what I should say. I mean it hurts but I'm coping."

"When did you and Peg start having problems?"

"Apparently a lot sooner than I thought. Peg said she's been unhappy a while, even before I left, but I never knew. After I left, after spending time alone, she realized she loved me but wasn't in love with me." He frowns. "I understand that to a point—after all, I am certainly not the BJ she married."

"Everyone changes."

"That BJ died his first day here, Sid."

"You're still you."

"Who am I then?"

I laugh softly. "When you find out that one, let me know. I'm still defining Sidney Freedman. Just like Peg seems to be defining who she is." I pause. "It still must hurt."

BJ closes his pale blue eyes. "Hurt," he laughs bitterly. "Such a simple word."

"What word should be used?"

"Gutted." He shrugs. "We worked out a fast divorce settlement. I'm worried about Erin most of all. I can see her any time but still…"

"Did you ask for a hardship discharge?"

"No. Peg flat out told me even if I came home, it wouldn't change her mind. And being so new, I was told most likely the Army wouldn't grant me one. Hell, Klinger's divorcing, too. He won't get a discharge, either." He laughs hollowly. "At least here I might do some good and a few people here care for me."

I lean forward. "A few?"

He looks surprised. "What?"

"You said a few people here care for you."

"It's nothing."

"You have friends all over camp, BJ."

"Name them," he snaps back. "Let's be realistic, Sidney, I was a poor replacement for Trapper John." His voice practically hums with resentment and I inhale slowly. I never would have guessed this.

"Trapper had just left and Henry had died. Of course they were grieving. Unfortunately grieving people are seldom at their best." I sip my tepid coffee. "Just as you aren't at your best right now as you mourn for your family."

"Touché." He looks at the walls, rubs his hands again. "You're right, I do have friends. I must sound like a whiny child."

I smile. "No, just upset." I tilt my head. "Did you get into an altercation with Major Burns?"

His head snaps up and I can practically taste the rage. "I didn't hit him. The whole camp now knows I'm divorcing thanks to him and his mouth. Most have the decency not to say anything." His shoulders slump and he shuffles his feet, clearly embarrassed. "Frank picked a fight. I reacted badly. I didn't hit him but that was due to Hawkeye stepping between us."

"What happened?"

"I'd rather not go into that. I'm hardly proud of it."

"You said he picked a fight."

"I'm also 6'4", outweigh Frank probably by a good 30 lbs, and could beat him with a broken arm." He rolls his eyes. "It's not right."

"Are you pursuing other relationships?"

"God, no!"

The denial is whip fast. He calms yet shudders. "No. I've had offers but no."

"It'll take time. I only asked because you've been alone, what, 10 months?"

"11. No, Sidney. It took forever to find Peg."

"It's no sin to care for someone, BJ. And 11 months is a long time. Human beings get lonely." He flinches at that. Hard. I've cut deep. "You have been lonely," I comment.

"Yes" A whisper. "But I'll be fine."

"Is there someone you care for here?"

"There's one—someone I liked from the first. But…" He spreads his hands. "I don't think the feeling is mutual."

"Why not?"

The broken expression tears my heart. "I don't choose wisely, Sid." He stands up. "Thanks."

He leaves quickly, heading for the Mess Tent. Hawkeye appears, drapes an arm over his shoulders. I watch them and then go see Sherman who is cleaning his saddle. "Hey, Sidney. Well?"

"Well?"

"Don't beat around the bush, Sidney. How is he?"

"He'll be fine, Sherman." Potter relaxes. "I'd keep Burns away from him, though."

"Burns is an idiot."

"What was the fight about?"

"We'd just finished a 12 hour stint, everyone's exhausted, and Burns has to make a crack about Hunnicutt's wife. Pierce stepped in and a good thing, too. Hunnicutt's no lightweight and he'd have flattened Burns like a steamroller." He rubs the saddle. "Poker tonight?"

"That's what I'm here for."

At the poker game, I watch BJ a little more than usual. He cracks jokes, drinks, and doesn't seem any different. I relax a little. He'll be all right—as all right as anyone can be in a war zone. Yet I can't help but wonder what he'll do without his amulets. And what about after the war? What will he do with no purpose?

I can only hope he finds someone, something to give him a purpose, an anchor. Otherwise he'll lose more than his family.

He'll lose everything.


End file.
